


TLC

by MiyabiDreams



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiyabiDreams/pseuds/MiyabiDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More old work from the days when the author was still crying over old assassins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TLC

"Novice! Idiot! Get out, now! OUT!!"

Projectile pottery smashed against the wall of a bureau filled with shouting and swearing mingled with stammered apologies from a man who, to the one throwing his belongings, deserved no sympathy. He was a failure, an ignorant jackass and far too proud and if he didn't leave that building just that instant, there would be hell to pay!

Altair Ibn La'Ahad stumbled through the open doorway leading into the makeshift office space that Jerusalem's Dai always occupied and ended up on his ass on the floor with the man he'd once believed was his closest friend looming over him with pure hatred in his eyes.

"Malik, please! I didn't mean- "

"What, Altair? Didn't mean what?" Malik's eyes blazed as he glared down at the assassin at his feet.

"I only said that you'd changed! Kadar wouldn't be-"

"Don't say his name! You have no right! Get out of my bureau and do not come back!"

The hatch leading down into the bureau was slammed shut the moment Altair had pulled himself up onto the roof and the mutters from the man inside were muted enough that Altair could hear his name but little more. His hands clenched at his sides as he walked away.

He was only concerned. He wanted to be sure that Malik was acclimating to his new, permanent position as the master of the assassin's bureau of Jerusalem. He didn't deserve-

 _Oh, but I do, don't I._ His jaw clenched as he stopped in the shadow of an old, abandon church, probably one the Crusaders had left behind in search of better premises. He beat his head against it gently a few times, scowling as he looked up to the sky. _I failed to kill deSable. I cost Malik his arm. I cost him his brother_

His brother. That was the heart of it all. The boy had looked up to Altair, had done ever since they were all no more than children, new to training, rebellious enough to ditch the lessons that would have probably been vital, had they cared to try.

_"Brother! Malik, watch!" A scrawny figure bolted ahead of the pair walking the trail down from Masyaf and toward the edge of the first outcropping of rock that hung over a small clutch of houses and, socked securely between one and the cliff face, a convenient haystack. The oldest boy, his expression drawn and slightly irritable, started after his brother until he disappeared over the edge._

_"Dammit, Kadar, wait! You know we have swimming today!" Malik called after him, then shook his head and dove off the outcropping, turning a slow flip in the air before landing less-than-comfortably in the haystack and only just had the time to scramble out of the way before his best friend landed just where he'd previously been sitting._

_"Calm yourself, brother," Altair laughed, clapping Malik on the back then standing and brushing stems out of his robes. He pulled Kadar to his feet, smirking faintly as he leaned on the youngest boy's shoulders. "Al Mualim won't care if we ditch one lesson, right?"_

_Malik's expression was slightly outraged. But that smile. It sat so naturally, so beautifully on his friend's face and made him irresistible, impossible to deny his whims._

_Malik had never once denied him. Griped, yes. Argued, always. Lectured, too many times to count. But he never stopped Altair._

_Had never been able to stop him._

"You there! Get out of here!"

A voice brought Altair from his reverie and immediately put him on high alert. The approaching footsteps of a soldier made him shrink back into the shadows, then up the nearest wall, scaling it until out of nowhere, a rock pelted from below and smashed into his shoulder.

"Agh! Fuck!" He dragged himself up higher, ignoring the throb in his shoulder and down his arm as he ducked into a convenient hiding spot, waiting until the soldier had stopped shouting after him. Idiots with short attention spans.

\--

In the weeks following the incident at Solomon's Temple, Malik had become more and more cloistered and irritable, snapping at every young assassin that visited his bureau. There were no exceptions. If you came to the bureau seeking advice, information or simply a place to rest, the Dai simply handed over your feather, called you a novice and waited for you to leave. Not that he had exactly been sociable beforehand.

Everyone could tell when Altair had been in the bureau. Malik became surly. Silent. You would be lucky to get more than two words from the man, even more so if you could get him to look directly at you.

When the sound of feet landing on the floor broke the silence of the bureau a week after Malik's outburst, there was no customary sigh. Altair crept forward, ready to duck if something else flew at his head. He could hear nothing, though. When he peeked around the edge of the doorframe, he saw nothing. Nobody crouched over a map. No incense burning in the pot on the corner of the desk. The bureau was deserted.

Altair's first reaction was panic; Had something happened to Malik? Had he been taken by those European bastards to be killed? Had he- Altair froze. A single black feather had been left on the desktop. He knew where Malik was bound to be.

The walk was long, but he dared not take a horse and risk desecrating a grave marker. He approached the small, high plot outside of Jerusalem in silence and stared up at the figure standing along before the plot with the newest marker. It hadn't been the first time he'd found Malik here, standing over his brother's grave like a silent sentry.

It was the first time he'd ever seen Malik cry.

"Safety and peace- "

"Leave."

Altair cringed slightly. The voice was quiet, cold, clogged with tears, but solid as a lead hammer to the chest. He stepped forward slowly, his hands outstretched in supplication. "Brother, please."

"Get out of here, Altair."

"...No."

Malik turned, his head down, eyes narrowed, his cheeks still streaked with saline. He stared at Altair with his jaw squared and his only remaining hand clenched at his side. "What did you just say?"

"No. I'm not leaving. I won't let you stay here alone to wallow in your grief, brother," Altair said quietly, stepping forward once more then reaching out and holding fast to Malik's arm before the man could take it in his head to either hit him or walk away, both of which were equally likely. He matched the man's dagger-filled gaze with his own unmoving stubborn one, the two locked in a battle of wills. Altair could only guess what was really going on behind those dark, bewilderingly beautiful eyes, so tired and cynical since losing his family.

Finally Malik moved, trying to push past Altair to return to the bureau. He fully intended to hide away in the back room behind the desk as he did every night and sleep in complete silence. And hope not to wake up.

The grip around his arm tightened, triggering him to turn, his fist rising, fully intending to slug the assassin and put him on the ground. Then he froze as Altair's arms wrapped around his middle in a near bone-crushing embrace. He growled and pounded the man's head, his temper rising dramatically until finally exploding.

"Let go of me this instant, Altair! You god-damned imbecile! Homewrecker! I should kill you where you stand, let me go! Why are you doing this to me? Why have you always done this?! Get off of me! Go home and stay away from me!" His voice rose and cracked as he caught his breath. He wrenched free and shoved Altair hard, unbalancing him and stomping past him, his robes flapping around him as he cried out over his shoulder, "Pathetic excuse for a novice!"

In the dying daylight, Altair sat on the ground with his head down and massaged the rising lumps Malik had given him.

\--

_"Haha! Told you I could do it," Kadar laughed as he danced out of Altair's grasp, the older boy growling and running after the thief that now carried his shirt in both hands up over his head. Malik sat with his feet soaking in the shallow stream, smirking as he watched his brother continually evade Altair until finally caught up with him, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist and hauled him up over one shoulder._

_"You drop him and I'll drop you harder," Malik warned, earning him a rude gesture, which he shrugged off and went back to watching the water. He'd rolled his pants up to his knees and stripped out of his own tunic, leaving it folded on the ground nearby. The water wasn't anywhere near deep enough to swim in, but all rivers went somewhere. He and Altair had already planned it; they would follow the water until they found where it led. Malik intended to draw a map for future reference when they did so, wanting to give it to his brother when it was detailed enough so they would always be able to find somewhere to go to hide from the world in general. Their own little oasis._

_That night, they got their chance to sneak out. Kadar had fallen asleep hours ago. After creeping out of the assassin's bureau and out of Masyaf miraculously without being caught, the novices grinned at one another and followed the footpath that lead through the mountains into the smaller hills bedecked with trees and, yes, there it was._

_"Come on, Malik, I want to find it before morning, y'know," Altair murmured, sticking close by his friend's side._

_"You're an impatient bastard," Malik replied conversationally, smirking a little and dodging a smack, ending up stepping in the water and letting a yelp as he shook his foot while Altair laughed. He glowered then sprang toward the younger boy, who immediately ran downstream, cackling loudly with Malik right behind him, swearing and laughing right along, until Altair disappeared from his field of vision, replaced by a brief, sparkling splash of water. "Look, you found it."_

_"Shut up," Altair muttered after spitting a mouthful of clear water. He looked around, his slightly irritable expression fading away as Malik stepped forward, past him and into the shallow water around the edge of the pool the stream emptied into. He was about to ask what Malik was doing, until his friend's shirt landed on the bank, followed by his already sodden boots and his pants. He stared at the silhouette drenched in moonlight walking out into the water slowly then crouching down. He swallowed hard, then stripped down to his skin and followed._

_Malik smiled faintly, looking down at his shimmering reflection in the water. "It's beautiful here"_

_He started slightly when he felt a pair of calloused hands settle on his shoulders and looked back over his shoulder to see Altair behind him, down on his knees, so close he could feel the heat from the day radiating from the younger man's skin. His lips pulled into the smallest of smiles as he turned back around and looked up at the moon, half-obscured by clouds. He started to search for constellations until he felt a chapped pair of lips press to the back of his neck._

_"Altair" He breathed his friend's name as the hands on his shoulders slipped down his arms, then over his sides to rest just above his hips. His eyes fluttered closed until one of those hands moved lower, dipping between his thighs and caressing the sensitive inside of his right one. He flushed as he felt his testicles come up against his body in a reflex he never understood, knowing Altair had felt it too by the way he continued to stroke one finger around that general vicinity. Malik started to object until that same hand wrapped around the base of his prick._

_When he arched back slightly, Altair breathed in his ear then bit down on the outer rim gently, drawing a long shudder from the older boy. "I want this to be our place," he purred into his friend's ear. "You can map it, but don't share it with Kadar. Just me."_

_Malik frowned slightly, his lips parting as he looked back at the one that had such a firm, wonderful grip on his stiffening manhood. "You are greedy, you know that?" he muttered, then let a quiet gasp as Altair's mouth closed over his, the hand around him starting to move slowly, rolling the foreskin up over the head of his dick then releasing it. The action repeated as they eased up to their feet, the kiss growing hungrier, more frantic the longer the teasing kept up._

_Finally it was all Malik could do not to march Altair up to the bank and take him for all the world to see and hear. He knew Altair could be noisy. He'd heard it when he'd caught him with his own prick in hand, panting as he neared his climax. He hadn't interrupted, but he'd stood outside of his friend's room, his own arousal becoming more than he could stand. But he stayed his hand and when Altair finally emerged, flushed and satisfied, Malik had lectured him about his virtue._

_Now he was at Altair's mercy, the hand on him tight and slick with water and it felt so good, so right and the press of his friend's body was beautiful and warm and comfortable._

"Malik?"

The Dai froze, snapping back to reality. There was no water, no moonlight or stars, no warmth against his back, only a slightly itchy blanket and the large, calloused hand wrapped around him was his own. He stopped breathing as his name was called again.

Altair sighed quietly as the bureau was permeated by the silence of someone trying desperately to be silent. "Brother, pleaseI need to speak with you," he called quietly, his voice hoarse as if he were sick, or emotional. The latter seemed rather unlikely to Malik but he wasn't going to go out and check. Not in his current state.

"Malik, dammit! Get out here or I'm coming in there !"

 _Wait, what?_ "Altair, wait, don't- "

The door swung open and Malik was exposed, flushed and half-naked, his robes off and his pants pulled down enough to expose his rapidly-softening member. The pair gaped at one-another, mimicking one-another in wide-eyed embarrassment. Altair was the first to move, snapping the door shut behind him and cutting them off from the bureau and suddenly it felt like they were the only two people in the universe.

There were no words. The shocked silence gave way to something much deeper, the temperature in the room seeming to drop with ever moment they stayed in their private tableau. Then the assassin stepped forward, finally breaking the spell. Malik backpedaled until he was against the wall, still staring hard at Altair as the younger man approached and pulled his hood back, staring at Malik with hard eyes the color of amber in the low lighting of the room.

Nothing was said, no protest made, every one dying in Malik's throat as Altair's hand wrapped around the half-wilted erection his own hand had fallen away from. Scarred, chapped lips pressed to his then started in a burning trail down the line of his jaw, along the rope of tendon in his neck, then further down until they found the scarred, mangled stump that served as the eternal reminder of his biggest blunder.

Malik was helpless under the gentle assault. He wanted to strike out and knock Altair off of him but that mouth, that hand with its missing finger and the tenderness with which his body was being attended made it hard to think. His head fell back against the wall, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he came to life in the other man's hand, just as he had the night they'd found the oasis.

The talent with which Altair manipulated his nerves still astounded him. It was as if their relationship had never soured and their last private escape had only been days ago.

And just as fast as it had begun, it was over as Malik released in hot, sticky ropes over Altair's hand and up along his own stomach; it had been such a long time since anyone, even he himself had paid attention to his more carnal needs. He was too worn and flustered to object when Altair bowed his head and began to lap at the still-warm semen just starting to run off of Malik's stomach.

He opened his eyes when he heard the rustle of clothes being cast off, frowning deeply at the scarred skin Altair presented him with. He gave a long, harsh sigh then looked down between them and reached out. The younger man crawled forward and wrapped his arms around Malik's middle. He smiled against his friend's shoulder, his head nuzzling into the warm, still-flushed skin of his neck as Malik's arm slipped up and behind Altair's neck, that wide, tough hand winding into his hair and holding him there. He couldn't move away even if he'd wanted to.

Some time later they fell asleep together in Malik's bed, clinging to one another.

\--

_"Kadar? Kadar, answer me!" The rumble of rocks shifting, being shoved aside and the desperate scrambling of one man screaming and hefting rubble out of his way. "God dammit, Kadar, stop hiding! We need to get back to..."_

_A thin, broken body, littered with sword slashes, his arm. **His arm shouldn't be able to lay at that angle.**_

_Malik fell to his knees near his brother's head and pulled it into his lap, staring down at the streaks of blood, so much blood, his lovely pale blue eyes half-open glazed over and staring into nothing. A drop fell onto his cheek and rolled down and for a moment, Malik thought maybe Kadar was alive, that it was him crying...but no. He gave a quiet, aching sob and bent low over his younger brother's body._

_Then he gritted his teeth and sat up slowly, staring toward the only way out of the temple._

_Altair. he would pay. He would never be forgiven for this, for killing his only family._

\--

A pair of lips pressed just behind his ear, drawing him up from his sleep, his body slowly unraveling from its fetal position. He frowned deeply and wiped his hand over his face, stopping when he felt the wetness on his cheeks.

The body pressed against his back shifted and one hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling his arm out away from him. He would have snapped, had he had the chance but the moment he turned over his lips were immediately crushed by Altair's, until the assassin drew back slowly with a solemn expression, brow knitted as he leaned down and nudged his forehead against Malik's shoulder; a nonverbal apology, one of many that would come in the years to follow before Malik finally broke and accepted it.

For the time being, the Dai contented himself with the idea that he could exact some kind of heinous revenge on Altair later.

Maybe.


End file.
